Eternal
by saentiel
Summary: Legends have always told of those who cannot die. Only those who have been handed that fate truly understand the pain of being alone for eternity and the confusion that accompanies their curse. But when the curse is shared with another, is it truly so bad? [Allen x Oliver]
1. Chapter 1

**A/N – Hello, dearest reader. My name is Mage, and I'm glad that you've chosen to read my newest fanfiction,** ** _Eternal._** **Please leave a review if you enjoy reading this! I'd love to see what you think.**

 **Disclaimer –** ** _Hetalia_** **belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. I only own my interpretation of his series and the plot of this fanfiction.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Chapter 1**

 _Today was especially shitty,_ the young man concluded as he walked down the deserted street. He slipped his hand into the pocket of his leather jacket and fingered the smooth pick inside of it. His fingers itched to play something to distract himself from the growing feeling of despair, but he was still a good minute away from his house.

He made due with humming the chorus of a song he had been working on the past week or so. It was fairing better than any of his previous works; they had all ended up in the trash after only a day or two. This one wasn't any better than the others had been, but he had yet to come to the disheartening understanding that he could never share the music he had poured his heart into.

For that was the fate of a man like him. The most he could ever amount to was flipping burgers at the local fast food joint. His passion remained a closely guarded secret, one more piece of the truth that was buried underneath the uniform of a McDonald's employee.

* * *

He looked up and saw that he had arrived at his house. While he could hear the loud banter of a party from one of the houses bordering his own, the other house was far quieter. He had never said a word to either of his neighbors, but he knew exactly who they were. His ability to gleam someone's name simply by seeing them was another one of the many unsolvable mysteries that his life was constructed of.

He retrieved his key from his pocket and opened the door to his house.

Something immediately felt off. The hallway looked exactly as he had left it before, but it still felt as if something wasn't quite right. Before he could figure out what was bothering him, he heard something moving about in his living room.

He slipped into his room and grabbed his baseball bat. It would be a shame if something were to happen to the antique, but if he was dealing with a burglar, he would need some form of protection. Now armed, he made his way towards the living room.

And then found himself staring a young man sleeping on his couch.

He nearly dropped the bat in surprise. He wasn't exactly sure how the man had gotten in, or why he had chosen to fall asleep in the middle of a robbery. To add to it, he didn't look particularly like someone trying to sneak into a house. His clothes were bright and colorful, and his hair was bubblegum pink.

The thief suddenly arose from his slumber. He looked around groggily, his beautiful blue eyes falling on the man standing in the doorway to the room. His gaze slowly traveled to the bat, and then back up to its owner.

"Who are you?" the man innocently asked; he had a British accent.

He held up the bat. "I should be asking you that." He narrowed his eyes behind his sunglasses, taking a menacing step towards the man before him. No name came to him as he stared at the youthful face of the thief.

"I'm Oliver Kirkland," was the prompt response. As the man got to his feet, he adjusted the scarf that had been lying haphazardly across his chest. He gave him a warm smile that made his heart flutter. "You're Allen Jones, aren't you? And this is your house?"

After a moment of hesitation, he nodded. He couldn't understand what Oliver Kirkland – he had never heard of anyone with that last name prior to now – was getting at, but he guessed that going along with it was the best way to get answers.

The smile grew. "That's a relief," the young man said with a sigh. Then he promptly drew a knife from the depths of the bright green jacket he was wearing and stabbed him in the heart.

 _Yes,_ Allen Jones decided as blood began to stain his shirt, _today is an especially shitty day._


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N – Hello, dearest reader! I'm glad you've decided to continue reading my fanfiction. Please leave a review if you enjoy reading this! I'd love to see what you think.**

 **Disclaimer – _Hetalia_ belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. I only own my interpretation of his series and the plot of this fanfiction.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Chapter 2**

His fingers desperately grabbed the handle of the knife, but the damage was already done. He fell to the ground with an expression of pure pain on his face. He doubted that the British man would call 911 for help. Doing so would essentially mean turning himself in, and no one in their right mind would ever do that.

Then again, Oliver still had that damn smile on his face. There was a high probability that something wasn't quite right with the man crouching down besides him. The thief-turned-murderer muttered what sounded like gibberish underneath his breath; Allen couldn't make out what he was saying.

The man jerked the knife out of his chest and observed the blood on the blade. "You can stop acting," he informed him, pulling a handkerchief out of his jacket. He began to carefully wipe his blood off, only to pause and glance at the unmoving and silent man besides him.

His gaze shifted to the knife.

Oliver plunged the blade into his own heart. A quick look of pain passed on his face, but, for the most part, he seemed completely alright with the action he had just committed.

Allen frantically sat up and pulled the knife out of Oliver's chest. The man's eyes widened as they stared at each other. He couldn't decipher the look in his eyes, but he frankly didn't care. "I-I'll call 911," he managed to get out. He fumbled about his pocket for his phone in a desperate attempt to help the man who had tried to kill him.

Oliver was muttering something under his breath again. Allen swore; had he gone delirious from blood loss already? But before he could even start dialing, the phone was suddenly in the thief's hands instead of his own. "I'm like you," the man simply explained. He didn't give the phone back. "I'm cursed too."

Allen desperately looked the man over. He wanted what he was saying to be true; he wanted proof that he was dealing with someone just like himself. The bat lay forgotten beside him as his eyes lingered on the wound that should have been gushing blood. Just like his own, it had become a thin white scar. How else would he be able to explain something like that if Oliver wasn't immortal as well?

"I-I'm not alone?" he finally managed to get out. It was a reality he had always dreamed of, but had long ago lost hope in. If Oliver was also immortal, didn't that mean there could be more people like them? More people who had been shedding identity after identity to protect themselves from being discovered by normal humans?

Without warning, Oliver threw his arms around him. "You're not alone anymore," he whispered. Allen had only just met the strange young man, but he didn't regret the sobs shaking his body as Oliver pulled him even closer.

Only he could understand the pain that Allen had been sure would last an eternity.

* * *

After Oliver had let go, Allen led him into the kitchen. His mind was still numb with the realization that he wasn't the only person who couldn't die. "I can get you something to drink," he quietly said. He made his way over to the refrigerator. He had learned long ago that he didn't need anything to eat or drink, but he still liked having food on hand in case he felt like having something to eat.

The British man's face lit up. "Do you have tea?"

Allen shook his head. "I have some milk and a couple cans of Coke. And there's water, too."

"Okay." Oliver eyed the cabinets above the kitchen counter. "Could I just have a glass?"

Confused, the American did as requested. He didn't understand why Oliver wanted an empty glass, but if it made him content, he couldn't refuse. He placed it in front of Oliver and sat down across from him.

Oliver muttered words that he didn't recognize underneath his breath. To Allen's astonishment, it began to fill up with what looked like tea. The immortal took a sip of it and then smiled. "It doesn't taste as good as tea you make yourself," he informed the shocked man, "but it still is pretty good!"

"How did you do that?" Allen tried to come up with some sort of explanation for the sudden appearance of tea, but was unable to do so. How was that even possible?

Oliver's smile grew into a very large grin. "Magic!"

"Magic...?"

The man eagerly nodded. "I've been doing it for centuries. Learning spells used to be how I passed my time." Oliver laughed. "I got burned at the stake a couple of times, but I'm probably the most knowledgeable sorcerer out there because of how persistently I learned it."

He recalled the words that he heard the man mutter earlier. Had those all been spells? There was the first time – that was after he had been stabbed. Oliver had crouched beside him, but there hadn't been any affect. The second time certainly had done something. He hadn't lost focus for several seconds, allowing Oliver to take his phone. Oliver had cast a spell that made it appear in his hands.

But even if that explained some of what had happened, there was still several things that didn't make sense. "You stabbed me earlier," Allen suddenly said. "What the hell was that for?"

"I was testing if you were immortal," Oliver confided in him.

Allen nervously got to his feet. He made his way over to the refrigerator, making it seem like he was getting something to drink instead of trying to get away from the sorcerer. "So you were seeing if I would die?" He stayed where he was and opened a can of Coke. Taking a long sip of it, he anxiously watched the man across from him.

Oliver looked thoroughly confused at the question. "I wanted to see how your body reacted to the injury. That's why I cast that scanning spell-" His sky blue eyes suddenly widened. "You think that I would kill someone?"

Allen remained silent and took another sip of his soda.

He rushed to his feet. "I'm not a murderer, Allen!"

"You stabbed me with a knife."

Oliver shook his head. "If my scan didn't say that your body was functioning normally, I would have cast a healing spell on you in an instant! I just wanted to see if what I had heard was right. And it was. It definitely was!"

Oh God – was Oliver about to cry? His eyes were growing moist, and his smile had been replaced by a frown. Allen had been completely justified in his assumption that Oliver would be alright with him dying. He still didn't know enough about Oliver to tell if he was a good person or not. He hoped he was, but that was all that it was. He had only known him for less than an hour, and in that time Oliver had somehow managed to get into his house and stab him with a knife. It wasn't exactly like Oliver was leaving a good first impression.

The sorcerer in question frantically tried wiping his tears away with his sleeve. "If I explain things, would you not be so scared of me? I promise I-I never wanted to hurt anyone."

Allen nodded, but he didn't move from his spot by the refrigerator.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N – Hello, dearest reader! I'm glad you've decided to continue reading my fanfiction.** **Please leave a review if you enjoy reading this! I'd love to see what you think.**

 **Disclaimer –** ** _Hetalia_** **belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. I only own my interpretation of his series and the plot of this fanfiction.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Chapter 3**

"Alright," Oliver said in attempt to reassure himself that everything would turn out alright. He was sure that it would. After all, Allen was immortal too! That had to count for something. It at least made Allen want to listen, and that was good enough at the moment.

He sat back down in his chair. Grabbing his glass with shaking fingers, he took a sip of his tea. Allen still looked wary, despite the distance between the two of them having been restored to what it was prior to him standing up. "My first memories are from around 383," he started.

Allen immediately spit out his soda.

"383?" he asked, his voice oddly higher pitched than before.

Oliver nodded. "Is there something wrong?"

Allen, wiping the soda off his face with the sleeve to his leather jacket, shook his head. "My first memories are from around the 1500s," he explained. "I thought we would be closer in age."

"I did too."

That was a troubling realization to come to. He had always assumed that something had happened to him when he was child, and that was why he was the way that he was. When he had realized that he wasn't the only immortal, he had believed that the same thing had happened to Allen. But what was the likelihood of the same thing happening nearly twelve thousand years later?

Whatever the case was, he needed to finish his explanation first. Then he could try figuring out exactly what was going on. "I don't remember ever having parents."

"So you lived on your own until people found you," Allen concluded. At Oliver's confused look, he elaborated. "I don't remember ever living with my birth parents. It wasn't like they abandoned me – I don't remember being a baby, and my memory is pretty good."

That sounded exactly like his childhood. Maybe there still was a connection between their immortality? "Once I realized that I wasn't aging like a normal person, and, eventually, not even aging at all, I started taking on different identities. I used to slip up all the time, but I've gotten pretty good at it. I thought I was the only immortal in the world. I had always tried finding other people like me, but my searches had never been easy or successful. But with the internet at my side, I thought I would try again."

He drank some more of his tea, watching Allen as he did so. The other immortal man appeared to be uninterested in his past, but the way that he was leaning forward ever so slightly revealed that the story was engaging to him.

"I found a thread on Reddit that talked about a man who fell into the pool at a hotel and broke his neck. The user who started the thread said that he should have died, but he was miraculously alright. I think you know who I'm talking about," he said with a smile.

Allen unconsciously rubbed the back of his neck, almost as if he was recalling the injury. "So I'm guessing you went to the hotel and asked about the guest? And then you somehow learned my name?"

"I used a spell to get them to tell me," Oliver sheepishly admitted. He didn't like using magic to take advantage of people – it was one of his beliefs about how it should be used – but he had thought it was a sacrifice worth making. Now that he was talking to a fellow immortal, he felt like he had made the right decision. "And then I found out your address and used a spell that brought me to your house."

"You could have just waited at the front door," Allen pointed out.

Oliver gave a nervous laugh. "I wanted to, but I hadn't used the spell before and it brought me inside your house. I was exhausted because of how powerful the spell was, and before I could even make my way to your door, I fell asleep on your couch."

Several tense minutes of silence followed. He hoped that Allen believed what he had said and trusted him. What reason would he have for lying? He had proved that he could do magic, and he had proved that he was immortal. With the addition of his explanation, Allen had to trust him.

The man with the crimson hair returned to where he had originally been sitting. "So now what?" he questioned, watching the sorcerer from behind a pair of sunglasses.

Oliver immediately stopped slouching in his chair. With a bright smile on his face, he eagerly said, "We figure out why we're immortal and then find other people like us!"


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N – Hello, dearest reader! I'm glad you've decided to continue reading my fanfiction.** **Please leave a review if you enjoy reading this! I'd love to see what you think.**

 **Disclaimer –** ** _Hetalia_** **belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. I only own my interpretation of his series and the plot of this fanfiction.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Chapter 4**

"But I've tried doing that for centuries," Allen said. Of course he wanted to know why he was immortal and if there was others like him and Oliver, but was attaining that knowledge even possible? How were they even supposed to go about doing that if all past attempts had failed?

Oliver put his now empty glass of tea down. "We can compare what we know and look for any similarities." Though the smile still remained on his face, his voice had lost the confidence that it had before. As Allen stared at the older man, he noticed that his face had an oddly timeless look to it. It was the face of someone young, but his eyes – though seemingly bright and cheerful – had a wiseness that could only come with age.

He instinctively lifted a hand up to touch his sunglasses. If he looked in the mirror, would he notice the same thing?

After a moment of what appeared to be hesitation, Oliver moved his chair so he was next to Allen. "We're allies now," he explained at Allen's look of confusion. "Not strangers and enemies."

 _Maybe today wasn't so shitty?_ he thought as he felt blood rush to his cheeks. Now that they were so close together, it was hard to ignore how attracted he was to the other immortal.

He took a deep breath. He had to focus on the situation at hand. He needed to go along with Oliver's plan of comparing their pasts, while also learning more about the British man. Oliver seemed nicer than when he had been stabbing him with a knife, but his sweet demeanor could be hiding a monster.

"What were your first memories?" Allen finally asked. It was a good place to start.

Oliver closed his eyes. As the memories returned to him, a bitter smile appeared on his lips. The smile took Allen by surprise; it wasn't the cheerful smile he had expected from the bubbly immortal. "I remember being found by a tribe in England. I remember how they took me in as one of their own, even though I was a strange child they have never met before." He opened his eyes again. "Then they were gone."

"Gone?" Allen repeated. Was he talking about how he had outlived them because of his immortality? It would make sense, but something about the way he said it made Allen believe that something else was the case.

He nodded. "Men decked in armor came on ships larger than anyone had ever seen. They killed my family. They said we were the barbarians, but they were the murderers who burned our village. That was my first encounter with the _glorious_ Roman Empire." The bitterness in his smile had been the first thing to throw him off, but he was far more shocked by the hatred in the immortal's voice. Whatever anger he had gained over the years was still somewhere inside of him, seething into his words as he recalled his past.

"I'm sorry," Allen said. Their deaths had been long ago, but he knew that the hole in Oliver's heart could never be filled. He unconsciously raised a hand to his neck and began to rub it. "Those with the most power always abuse it."

Oliver nodded in agreement. Then the fire was gone from his eyes, and a smile that Allen now realized was forced returned to his face. "What about you?"

"I remember freedom," Allen replied. "I remember running about the forests and plains, knowing that this place was home and that I never wanted to leave it. And I remember seeing the colonists arrive on their magnificent ships, and being excited that I could share my home with more people."

He remembered what came next, too. He remembered how their will to survive had become their will to thrive, and how the forests he had loved were chopped down one by one. He remembered every time a confrontation happened between the Native Americans and colonists, and remembered how hopeless he had been when he had just wanted them to stop the bloodshed.

He hated those memories the most because they had been his rude awakening to the darkest sides of humanity. And the scars on his neck that had long ago faded only reinforced that reality.

Oliver's eyes suddenly widened. "Merlin's beard!" he exclaimed.

Allen raised an eyebrow in response. Had he heard Oliver right? Had he made a reference to _Harry Potter?_

Oliver looked down at himself and then over at the other immortal man. He still had a look of absolute shock on his face as he glanced from himself and then to Allen. His gaze lingered on his own body. "Allen?" he quietly asked. "Have you always been able to tell the names of people who live in your country?"

He nodded.

The sorcerer paled, the look of shock transforming to one of fear as he stared at the other immortal. "I'm wrong," he muttered. His voice was barely above a whisper. "I have to be. I just have to be!"

"Oliver?"

A shaky laugh escaped Oliver's lips, his gaze dropping down to his lap. "We're almost normal, aren't we? We're flesh and blood and bones and _human._ We might be cursed but we're just as human as your neighbors! We're not some masses of land!"

Allen pushed his chair back and took a nervous step away from Oliver. "Oliver, I'm not sure what you're saying, but just calm down-"

"I can't," Oliver whispered. He sounded like he was on the verge of crying. What was he talking about? What could have gotten him so upset?

And what the hell did he mean when he said masses of land?

The sorcerer looked up from his lap. When Allen saw the despair on his face, he felt completely terrified of whatever realization Oliver had come to. That level of horror was far from normal. "I know what we are, Allen. I want to deny it but I can't. Everything makes more sense than it ever has."

Oliver took a deep breath.

"We're countries."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N – Hello, dearest reader! I'm glad you've decided to continue reading my fanfiction.** **Please leave a review if you enjoy reading this! I'd love to see what you think.**

 **Disclaimer –** ** _Hetalia_** **belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. I only own my interpretation of his series and the plot of this fanfiction.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Chapter 5**

"Countries?" he repeated.

Oliver dismally nodded. "You're America, and I'm the United Kingdom."

Allen's gaze dropped downwards. With the scrutinizing eyes of a detective trying to investigate a crime scene, he looked over every inch of his body as if it would present him with something that confirmed what Oliver said. "I'm not dirt."

"I think we're personifications of our countries," Oliver tried to explain, but Allen was preoccupied with staring at his hands. He was human, right? The last time he checked – which was when Oliver had stabbed him with the knife – he bled. He could feel emotions. Countries wouldn't be able to do those things, right? "I'm not sure why we exist, but the facts line up. We were created right before our countries were colonized."

"That's a coincidence," Allen replied. Countries couldn't hold jobs at McDonald's, or aspire to be a musician. That was something a human could do. "And our ability to recognize people from our countries is just a strange superpower."

Oliver thought for a second before speaking up again. "Didn't you feel like your heart was going to burst when America had its Civil War, and didn't your head always pound? Weren't you sure that you were going to die when British troops burned down the White House? Didn't a joy that couldn't be defined as normal make your heart soar when Americans gained their independence from the British?"

Allen looked up. Oliver was correct in everything he had said; he couldn't deny it. But what did that mean for him? If he was a country, why hadn't he found out sooner? And didn't that mean that there was other personifications of countries as well? What could they be like? Were they hiding in fear like he and Oliver had been for so long, or had they all found each other?

"If we're countries," Allen finally said, "there has to be other ones."

"So we're not alone!" Oliver realized. The sadness faded away from his face, now replaced by a grin that was stretching from ear to ear. His joy was contagious, and Allen found himself smiling as well. The prospect of having other immortals to rely on was a comforting one. "Who should we try finding first?"

Allen opened his mouth to speak, only to close it moments later as he remembered that he couldn't suddenly leave the country on a wild goose chase. He did have some money saved up, but not enough to hop onto a plane whenever.

Oliver hopped to his feet. "I was thinking Canada since they're practically next door and I've never been there~ I wonder what Canada is like. The country is supposed to be pretty cold, but I don't think it means anything! After all, the U.K. is supposed to be stormy all the time but I'm definitely not a grump-"

"I can't get there, Oliver," Allen interrupted. "I work at _McDonald's_. I've never even been on a plane before."

Oliver waved his hand, almost as if he was brushing off the comment. "If you travel with me, you'll just have to afford a hotel room – and I can split the cost with you. That's the advantage of being friends with a sorcerer. Just pack your bags and I'll teleport us there!~"

* * *

He lived in a single floor house, so he only had to walk down the hallway to get to his bedroom. He could hear Oliver singing in the kitchen as he closed the door behind him. The cheerful music was muffled by the closed door; Allen made sure to lock it.

It was easy deciding what clothes to bring. Unlike Oliver's bright outfits, his clothing mainly consisted of dark colors. He didn't need to worry about matched with what. He could just throw it into his suitcase. He grabbed the few snacks he had lying around his room, and made sure to shove his emergency stash of cash into his leather jacket. He knew he would need to convert it into Canadian currency, but having money on him was a necessity.

Once he had put everything in his suitcase, he pulled out his phone and dialed his boss' number to inform him that he was resigning. He didn't give his boss a chance to respond – he hung up immediately after telling him.

His gaze shifted to the cross on his nightstand. Grabbing it and slipping it over his head, he made his way back towards the bedroom door. _I wish you could see me now, Margaret,_ he thought as entered the hallway. _I think I'm finally going to find the place where I belong._


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N – Hello, dearest reader! I'm glad you've decided to continue reading my fanfiction.** **Please leave a review if you enjoy reading this! I'd love to see what you think.**

 **Disclaimer –** ** _Hetalia_** **belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. I only own my interpretation of his series and the plot of this fanfiction.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Chapter 6**

When he entered the kitchen, Oliver was browsing the web on his phone. The older country looked up from the screen and rushed over to Allen upon noticing his entrance. Without warning, he thrust his hand out in Allen's direction. Allen stared blankly at it in response. It seemed like an odd time to be shaking hands.

"Grab onto it," Oliver said with a smile. "Then I'll cast the spell and we'll be in Canada!"

He hesitated for a moment before grabbing onto Oliver's hand. As the sorcerer eagerly began to recite the spell, he hoped that he wouldn't notice how sweaty his hands suddenly were. When his heart started beating faster than usual, he wanted to tell himself that it was because he was scared of the unknown.

But he knew he would be lying.

The words died down on Oliver's lips. It felt like they were jerked from one location to another in a matter of seconds, and upon arriving in a mostly deserted road in what Allen assumed to be Canada, the younger country promptly threw up in a nearby bush.

"It's hard getting used to spells like that," Oliver weakly commented. Allen spat into the bush several times in an unsuccessful attempt to get the taste out of his mouth and then turned to face the sorcerer. To his horror, he had gone extremely pale and looked as if he was having trouble standing.

"Oliver! Are you alright?!"

"I'm just tired," Oliver replied, his voice quiet and strained. He seemed like he was about to collapse in an unconscious heap on the sidewalk. "I-I need to sleep..."

Allen had to rush to catch him before he fell backwards onto the concrete. "No," he informed him. "You're _not_ going to pull a Nico on me. You'll sit down if you have to, but you're not going to fall-"

A soft snore escaped the sorcerer.

"-asleep."

He frantically searched for some place to sit down on. There was a bench, but it was on the other side of the road and cars were beginning to come down it. It would be too risky trying to get his suitcase and Oliver over to the other side. Struggling to support the surprisingly heavy country, Allen searched for a bench on his side of the street. There was one much farther away than the first bench, but it was his only option.

He glanced down at the sleeping sorcerer. He could already tell how it was going to play out. Someone would see a very suspicious man – he knew how intimidating he could look – dragging an unconscious man down the street. They would think he was kidnapping Oliver and call the cops. By the time Oliver woke up, it would be too late. He wouldn't just be arrested; he would be charged for being in Canada without a passport.

But it wasn't like he could stay where he was! Either option led to him getting in trouble, so he resigned himself to a life behind bars and began to drag both his suitcase and Oliver over to the bench. He paused to take off his sunglasses and flash what he hoped was a friendly smile at the passing cars, but he could only wish that they wouldn't think anything was too suspicious.

When they finally reached the bench, he gently placed Oliver down onto it. He made sure it looked like Oliver was sitting up rather than lying down. It would hopefully make the passing drivers not look twice at the two men.

"Hello," a quiet voice suddenly said. Allen jumped in surprise and nearly knocked over his suitcase at the sound. He looked up from Oliver to see a young man with violet eyes watching him. How had he not noticed the stranger with the blond hair prior to him speaking? He searched the man's face for any sort of threat, but found nothing intimidating about it.

His tensed muscles relaxed. "Hi," Allen said, glancing once more at Oliver. Rather than trying to lie about why he was unconscious later, wouldn't it be better to come up with an excuse right away? As the man sat down on the bench, Allen sat down between him and the sleeping Oliver. "My friend's alright – he just has a condition that makes him fall asleep without warning."

The other man nodded. He looked like like a normal person, but something about him felt off. Allen couldn't put his finger on what. "My name is Allen."

There was a brief look of confusion in the man's eyes. Allen wished he understood why; not knowing made him feel like he was in danger.

"I'm Matthew," was the quiet reply to his introduction. It sounded like he was whispering, but, from the honest expression on his face, Allen decided that it was just the normal level his voice was at. "Is this your first time coming to Canada?"

Allen nodded. There was no need to lie about that. "Yeah-" He stared at him. "How did you know?"

The man pointed at his suitcase. "You have a suitcase and an American accent," he explained with a shy smile. Even though Allen was still wary because of the look he had been given, he felt like he was with a kindred spirit. He was almost completely sure that he was dealing with another introvert. Though Oliver was certainly nice to be around, it was also good to talk to someone like himself. "I hope you enjoy your visit here."

"Thanks," Allen said, giving him a rare smile. "Do you have any suggestions for places my friend and I should go?"

Matthew thought for a moment. He was about to open his mouth and say something, but then someone came rushing over from the end of the street. "Yo, Mattie!"

Allen's blood ran cold. The voice that had just pierced the silence of their conversation was undeniably his own, but it was coming from the lips of another person! Was that the reason for Matthew's look of confusion earlier? Because he somehow shared the same voice as someone Matthew knew? As the man rushed over with a large smile on his face and a cheeseburger in one hand, Allen tried to figure out who he was. He was American from his accent, so he would be able to determine his identity.

But no name came to him.

How was that possible? A strong American accent like that could only belong to someone who lived in America, and he saw an American flag patch on the man's jacket. All the facts pointed to him being from his country, so why couldn't he figure out who he was?

He wished Oliver would wake up. The sorcerer would understand what was going on, right? Oliver was good at figuring things out.

But Oliver was still fast asleep besides him, so he doubted that he would be getting answers in the near future.

Allen took a barely noticeable deep breath. He would have to play it cool and try to figure out what was going on by himself.

"The meeting's about to start, dude!" the man said, grabbing onto Matthew's arm with his free hand. "Iggy's going to kill me if I'm late again."

Allen looked the man over. Even though his hair was blond and his eyes were the same shade of blue as Oliver's, the newcomer's facial structure looked almost identical to his own. Were they doppelgangers? Could countries even have those? But even if countries could, that wouldn't explain why he couldn't figure out the man's name.

He glanced at Matthew's face. They looked like they were related – were they brothers?

"Oh, hey dude!" the man suddenly announced as his gaze fell upon Allen. "Are you friends with Mattie?"

Allen shook his head. It was so strange hearing his voice coming out of someone else's mouth. "We were just chatting."

Almost immediately, a look of confusion overcame the man's face. He glanced at who Allen assumed was his brother with wide eyes, almost as if he was hoping that Matthew could provide an explanation for Allen having the same exact voice. Once the initial confusion passed, the man paled and pulled his brother to his feet. The fear on his face was as clear as day.

Allen didn't blame him. He was terrified too.

He was just doing a better job at hiding it.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N – Hello, dearest reader! I'm glad you've decided to continue reading my fanfiction.** **Please leave a review if you enjoy reading this! I'd love to see what you think.**

 **Disclaimer –** ** _Hetalia_** **belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. I only own my interpretation of his series and the plot of this fanfiction.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Chapter 7**

There was sudden movement from besides him. Allen's first assumption was that Oliver was shifting in his sleep, but when he saw a pair of bright blue eyes staring at him, he realized that the other country was awake. His gaze shifted to the two humans. "Hello," he said with a yawn and a little stretch.

Something about Oliver made Matthew pale and his brother's eyes widen in horror, but Allen didn't have a clue about what it was. Whatever caused the reaction also made the louder of the two to tug on his brother's arm. "C-Come on, Mattie," he nervously suggested. "We really need to get to the meeting."

Oliver's gaze followed the two as they rushed off. He looked over at Allen when they were finally out of view and pinched himself. Moments later, a surprised expression appeared on his face. "He really does have your voice?" he questioned.

Allen nodded.

Oliver glanced down at his arm. "So I am awake. I thought I was dreaming or was half-asleep-" He leaned in closer to Allen. "Are you alright? You've gone really pale."

Apparently, he wasn't as good at hiding his fear as he thought he was.

He started to nod in an attempt to deny the accusation, but the look of genuine concern on Oliver's face made him stop and shake his head instead. "I thought being a country was terrifying, but seeing him was even worse," he quietly admitted. "It wasn't just his voice that was mine. His hair and eye colors might have been different, but I was looking at my own face. And I couldn't figure out his name, even though he had to be American."

Oliver slipped his hand into Allen's. Almost immediately, blood rushed to the younger country's face. Allen tried to ignore his racing heartbeat, but it was hard to do that with Oliver holding his hand. "I wish I understood what just happened," the sorcerer said. "Then I could help you not be so terrified."

"They were scared of you too," Allen pointed out. Maybe that would help them figure out what had just happened? Yet it wasn't like the last part of the encounter really supplied any clues; in fact, it just added more questions.

Oliver, giving his hand one last squeeze, got to his feet. He grabbed onto the handle of Allen's suitcase and brought it over to the sitting man. "Let's follow them."

Allen stared at him.

"We'll be like detectives," Oliver elaborated. He pushed the handle in Allen's direction. "Besides, we might never see them again! And there's obviously something strange going on here. They might even have to do with us being countries."

Allen grabbed onto the handle with shaking fingers. Getting to his feet, he simply said, "Alright," and followed Oliver as they began to track down the two humans.

* * *

It turned out that they had teleported to the outskirts of Ottawa. Oliver already knew this; he had been aiming for Canada's capitol because he had thought it was the best place to start. But the sight of the magnificent and beautiful city took Allen completely by surprise, and Oliver had to tug on his sleeve to get him to keep moving.

As Oliver asked strangers on the sides of the street if they had seen the two humans – Oliver claimed they were cousins and had gotten separated – Allen was busy taking pictures of the scenery on his phone. It was his first time out of the states. He had to take photos to forever immortalize this experience. He was sure that he would come back again someday, maybe with Canada's personification in tow, but he had no idea how soon that day would be.

"They went to a building with high-level security," Oliver reported. He pointed at a building off in the distance. "Apparently the two of them are government officials. The one with your voice is a representative from your country."

"I've never seen him before," Allen protested. If he really was a representative from the United States, why had he never seen his face on the news? Though it sometimes sickened him to do so, Allen was incredibly good about keeping up with the politics of his country. So why was he only hearing about him now?

"And the plot thickens," Oliver commented.

Allen's gaze shifted away from his friend and to the building. "Are we going to wait outside for them?"

Oliver shook his head. "We're going to leave your suitcase in a bush and then sneak into the building."

His eyes widened in alarm. Had he heard Oliver right? Following the two men was one thing, but breaking into a government building was far worse! "Didn't you say it was high security?"

Oliver grinned at him. "I'm a sorcerer. We have our ways of getting into places."

Allen really didn't like where this conversation was going.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N – Hello, dearest reader! I'm glad you've decided to continue reading my fanfiction.** **Please leave a review if you enjoy reading this! I'd love to see what you think.**

 **Disclaimer –** ** _Hetalia_** **belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. I only own my interpretation of his series and the plot of this fanfiction.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Chapter 8**

Allen didn't like waiting.

He especially didn't like waiting when it involved highly illegal activities, but he was beginning to suspect that hanging around with Oliver would involve a lot of illegal things. Case in point: Oliver was currently scoping out the building. Allen's suitcase had already been stashed away in a bush, as Oliver had said it would. Now Allen found himself waiting in the nearly deserted Ottawa Park.

Allen sighed and pushed his sunglasses up. He hoped Oliver would come back soon. Despite not wanting to break into the building, he felt like sitting by himself in the park was making him the center of attention. At least five different people had given him terrified looks before hurrying on, and even the animals seemed to be avoiding him.

"The meeting hasn't started yet," Oliver suddenly said from in front of him. Allen nearly fell off the bench in surprise. His voice suggested that he was standing in front of him, but there was nothing there! Allen nervously poked the air before him. In response, Oliver made a startled noise.

 _Something_ grabbed onto Allen's hand – he couldn't see what that something was. He struggled to break free of its grasp, but whatever it was had a surprisingly strong grip. "Allen?" Oliver hesitantly asked.

Allen frantically searched for the other country. Where the hell was he?

"What are you looking for-Oh! Allen, I'm right in front of you! I'm just invisible."

He stared at his hand. So that was what was grabbing onto him? It made sense, but it was so strange to feel a hand grabbing onto his own but not actually be seeing it.

"I'm going to make you invisible too, alright? We can sneak in without them seeing us."

Before Allen could slip in a word of protest, Oliver began to mutter the words to a spell. For a brief second, he saw the other man. But then he was gone just as suddenly as he had appeared, and Allen realized he couldn't see the hand that he had been holding out in front of him moments earlier. He knew it was there – he could feel it being grasped by Oliver's hand – but it was no longer visible. The rest of his arm was gone too, and, when he looked down at the rest of his body, there was nothing there.

So he did the logical thing.

He screamed.

He noticed a man with amber eyes and a terrified expression on his face dart off when he heard the scream, but he was too caught up in his own fear to really comprehend the reaction of the passerby. The scream died down on his lips as he felt Oliver suddenly embrace him, but he couldn't stop shaking. "It's alright," the sorcerer promised. His voice was barely above a whisper. "That's how it's supposed to work."

"But I can't see myself," he managed to get out. "And I can't see you." He wasn't sure what was the more terrifying part of the experience.

Oliver was silent for a minute. "I haven't seen someone use an invisibility spell before. I've used it on myself before, but never on another person. I know I sound like I'm okay right now, Allen, but I've got a terrible case of goosebumps. And a chill keeps running up and down my spine. So you're definitely not alone right now. But we really need to figure out what's going on, or we might miss this opportunity forever...okay?"

He started to nod, only to realize that Oliver couldn't see him doing so. "Alright," he agreed. "Let's go do some highly illegal activities."

* * *

Getting into the building was the easy part. All they had to do was wait for someone to enter it; they rushed after them immediately afterwards. That person was one of the security guards, most likely heading off to use the bathroom after his shift was over. Whatever his purpose was, Allen didn't care. He just wanted answers and for this to be over.

They wandered the hallways in an attempt to find the two men from before. They passed several different people during their search that couldn't have possibly be politicians based on the way they were acting and the clothes they wore. (Especially that creepy Russian man. Allen was still terrified and they had passed him nearly five minutes before.) But, like with the security guard they had followed, Allen didn't question their presence. He had to keep his attention focused on the task at hand.

He felt Oliver tug on his sleeve again, pulling him in the direction of several loud noises. He heard Oliver's arm brush up against his coat; he assumed the sorcerer was putting a finger to his lip. Then they followed a man that looked vaguely familiar through the doorway that belonged to the room with all of the talking.

It was incredibly easy to spot the man that shared his voice. He was possibly the loudest person in the room. It was a lot harder to find Matthew, who was silently sitting beside his brother. Oliver tugged on his shoulder once again, and he followed him to the back of the room.

"It was really creepy!" the man said. His announcement was met with looks of disbelief, except for the newcomer that they had followed in. "I swear that he had my voice! And his friend had your voice, Iggy!"

Matthew nodded in agreement, but no one seemed to notice him.

"You're jumping to assumptions," a man with short blond hair said, rolling his green eyes. Allen gave a startled glance in the direction he assumed Oliver was in – that man had his voice! "It was probably your imagination, America."

"It totally happened!" he protested, but Allen was too confused by the name he had just been called to pay much attention to what he was saying. Each of the people present seemed to be from different countries. Was the British man just calling Matthew's brother America as a sort of nickname?

The two continued to bicker about the events that had transpired nearly an hour before the meeting. Realizing that the conversation was getting him no new information, he turned his attention to the man he was sure he recognized. The man, who had a fearful expression on his face, turned to the Asian man beside him. "Where's Germany?" he anxiously asked.

"He went to use the bathroom so he would not have to go during the meeting," the man, who seemed to be Japanese from his accent, replied.

 _Germany_? Was it another nickname for a country's representative? Or was he actually Germany's personification? Allen's gaze swept across the room. Each of the members present seemed like there was something special about them, and each were from a different country. Was it possible that all of them were personifications?

But then what about the man with his voice? He was the personification of America, not him! And what about "Iggy"? Was that a nickname for the United Kingdom? But that didn't make sense either – Oliver was that country's personification! They didn't seem like impostors, so why were they there?

Suddenly, the room fell eerily quiet. He glanced at the faces of the people in the room in an attempt to understand why they had stopped talking. It was only when he realized they were staring at him and Oliver that it hit him.

Oliver had a terrified look in his eyes when he glanced over at him. "I've never used the spell on two people before," he realized, his skin growing pale. "I think the time was cut in half."

Allen grabbed on his hand. "Then I think this is the part where we run!"


End file.
